


better (punch) romaine on my good side

by bonkobarnes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Caning, Cock Cages, Come Marking, Corporal Punishment, Dark Will Graham, Dom Will Graham, Dom/sub, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Humiliation, M/M, Masochist Hannibal Lecter, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Husbands, My First Smut, No Aftercare, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Punishment, Sadist Will Graham, Sorta ?, Sub Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, be gentle with me i dont know what im doing, depends on your definition of aftercare but definitely not sufficient in a healthy relationship, i mean as consensual as murder husbands can be without wanting to kill eachother every other second, okay i'm stopping now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25726177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonkobarnes/pseuds/bonkobarnes
Summary: Will goes to Florence with Hannibal instead of Bedelia. He is not happy that Hannibal jeopardizes their hideout by killing Professor Sogliato. Punishment follows.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	better (punch) romaine on my good side

**Author's Note:**

> mm hello! i wrote this because im sad as all hell and this is the only way to distract me from my anxiety :). anyway! i have literally never written ANYTHING like this before so it's probably all over the place and maybe inconsistent, i honestly don't even know im sorry. if anyone happens to still be interested, i hope you enjoy. 
> 
> bones, eth, anyone else from the server that happens to read this, this is for you!! i hope i don't disappoint. 
> 
> title is a PUN ! get it? hilarious.

Will had thoroughly been enjoying Florence. The two of them had been able to maintain a relieving peace while abroad, and while he was unfamiliar with Europe, he felt right at home here.

Not in the sense that Italy matched his aesthetic, or that he enjoyed the culture here more than he enjoyed the quiet of Wolf Trap, it was more of a familiarity he felt in his bones. His tie to Hannibal, their inseparable bond had him feeling as if he was roaming Florence in the other man's shoes.

He was so in tune with Hannibal that the other man's memories became his own, and he knew the sentiment was mirrored in his partner. This city felt like an extension of himself he had only recently discovered, and he found that while he usually would have, he didn't mind the bustle of the crowds. 

He missed his small home and his family of strays, but he was beginning to understand why Hannibal treasured this place so dearly. The sun seemed to gleam in scattered rays on the worn cobblestones, creating the brightest oranges and yellows. It held a charm that wasn't dissimilar to the way Hannibal presented himself to the world. 

Once they had settled in a bit Will wondered if he would be able to find a close fishing spot. Hannibal told him there was recreational fishing in Tuscany, and had gifted him with the supplies he needed and sent him on his way. Will could fish every few days if he wanted to, and he found he was missing less and less about Wolf Trap. If they stayed under the radar, they might be able to stay here uninterrupted and unbothered for a while. 

Hannibal had clearly been enjoying his time at the Palazzo Capponi and seemed to be living his greatest fantasies. Will caught him staring when he thought he wasn't paying attention. The look in his eyes was so raw, so vulnerable in its wholeness, Will didn't even have to try to discern his feelings. 

He knew Hannibal was still amazed he had agreed to follow him here, that he had left everything behind to join him in the darkness of themselves. Hannibal was drinking up their time together like a man stranded in the hottest desert. He couldn't trust that this dreamworld of his would last, so he lapped up every moment they spent in one another's company. 

Even if their particular relationship had not been established and Will's power over the man wasn't so blatantly exhaustive in nature, he knew Hannibal would do anything to keep Will happy, content. Even if he **wasn't** prone to dropping to his knees every time Will so much as raised an eyebrow at him, even if the roles were reversed; Hannibal would still have given up the moon and stars for him. 

Will was blissfully aware of this control he held and drank in the heat of it like whiskey burning through his throat. It was intoxicating like no bottle of scotch could ever be. To delight in the raw control he held over someone so magnificent. When Hannibal came to Will explaining the circumstances of a man called Anthony Dimmond and the secrets he had discovered, they both agreed he had to die. 

There was nothing that would link Anthony to Hannibal, and no one who would immediately notice his absence. So, Will indulged Hannibal's craving. It was simple enough of a job, and the two could maintain the refuge they had found in Florence. There was no real reason Hannibal should be kept from enjoying himself, just this once, and with Will's explicit permission of course. 

The cleanup job was left to Hannibal, and Will allowed him to pack away the man's organs for future meals, counting on the enchanted and floaty high it procured in Hannibal. Eating the flesh of others never failed to perk Hannibal's spirits and made Will's life that much easier. He was much more inclined to behave, uncharacteristically agreeable, almost softer, and content. 

Will knew then, a few weeks later, that inviting Professor Sogliato to dinner with them was going to put Hannibal in a very precarious situation. He knew of the doctor's distaste of the Italian man, he found him unbearably rude. But they had discussed that there was no room for error, and Will had been absolutely clear that any and all kills had to be approved by him first. 

He knew Hannibal would be awfully tempted to make a move on the other man, but trusted that he knew better than to directly disobey him. It seemed his trust was misplaced. 

The three men had been sitting around their table, Hannibal enjoying the opportunity to show off another one of his many skills. Will had known to be wary of Hannibal that night but was not expecting such outright negligence. Hannibal's conversation with the professor had certainly been telling, Will predicting his intentions before he could find a way to warn him to behave.

He was watching Hannibal prepare the punch romaine and serve it when the ice pick he was holding was violently thrust into their guest's brain. 

Will's carefully contained anger bubbled up and he seethed, staring at the wide-eyed man incoherently babbling in front of him in apathetic contempt. His eyes turned stormy and dark with fury and his breathing quickened when he turned to face Hannibal. 

"That may have been impulsive," Hannibal said eyes lowered a touch, as he took a bite from his plate. 

Will picked up his napkin, glaring down his insolent boy as he journeyed over to the giggling man, pulling the pick from his brain and watching him fall to the table. 

"Technically, you killed him," Hannibal whispered conspiratorially. His face whipped to the side from the force of Will's slap. Red handprint blooming on his face, the rude boy at least having the good sense to keep his head bowed and jerked to the side where Will had left it. 

Will's breathing was shallow and ragged. He tried and failed to steady it, forcing air in and out of his nose. He threw the weapon down on the table, the metal clattering with the beautifully presented tableau. 

"Down." The word was growled from deep within, the beast Hannibal had been nurturing making another of its occasional appearances. He walked away from the table, pacing in an attempt to calm himself, hearing the quiet slide of Hannibal's chair and his knees hitting the floor. He turned his head just slightly, making sure the bratty man was in the correct position. 

Will had a horrible habit of grinding his teeth when he was frustrated, and while he was trying to stop, now was no victory won. Jaw set tight, muscles jumping and twitching under the pressure. He paced for a while longer, shrugging off his blazer, throwing it carelessly and in a heap to their couch, a tiny part of him satisfied to see Hannibal's flinch. 

When it seemed he had worn a path into the floor of their living room, he closed his eyes, let out one long breath, and turned to stand in front of the kneeling man. He was the smallest bit pleased in seeing that Hannibal had been cowering, presuming the depth of trouble he was in, but unable to predict entirely. 

He walked to the table, grabbed a steak knife, and walked behind the other man, crouching to grab at the base of his striped jacket. It was one of Hannibal's favorites, one of Will's favorites as well, if he was being honest, but it had to go. Naughty boys did not deserve their nice things. 

He sawed through the fabric with the predictably sharp knife, catching the subtle twitch of Hannibal's head, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Grabbing the split fabric, he ripped it off of Hannibal's now outstretched arms, insuring it could not be easily mended. 

Now only in his dress shirt, bow tie, and slacks, Will knew he would be suffering that blow to his ego for a while. He relished in it, letting the feeling wash over him, like the first budding flower of springtime, eagerly awaiting the elegance that came thereafter. He was quite practiced at pulling as much shame from Hannibal as necessary, and then some. It would be a beautiful spring. 

Will walked slowly, deliberately, to stand in front of him; shoes clacking softly on the hardwood floor. 

"How could you be so reckless, so perfectly irresponsible?" His tone was slow and controlled, probably sounding calm to someone on the outside of their relationship. He stood towering over Hannibal, sliding his hand into his hair to yank it up painfully, forcing eye contact. 

"What possessed you to so vehemently disobey me? Your _**master**_?" He punctuated that last word with an extra hard tug to his hair, emphasizing his point. Hannibal's only perceivable reaction to squeeze his eyes together momentarily. Releasing his hair roughly, he raged inside, searching for a punishment that could get through to this hopeless boy. 

"Here is what's going to happen. You are going to clean this mess, thoroughly. I want it all done tonight, not a single shred of evidence left behind. You are going to come up with the most _airtight_ excuse as to why Professor Sogliato is going to be absent from the studiolo. And none of that 'he ran away with a woman' bullshit. _**Air. Tight. Hannibal.**_ I don't care what kind of work you have to put into it, but I want you to convince Jesus Christ himself that this man was not murdered. Am I perfectly understood?" He had started pacing again, panting with his efforts hands clenching and unclenching behind him as he seethed out instructions.

"I never leave behind evidence," came Hannibal's snarky reply, small smirk evident on his face.

"If I hear one more word out of you that is not in direct response to me, I will cut out your tongue," Will practically roared, face redder than the blood seeping through their tablecloth. 

"Yes, sir." Hannibal had never gotten such a cruel threat from Will before and it excited something deep within him, accompanied now by no small amount of fear. The two men had learned that Hannibal was able to get into a better submissive headspace when acted upon severely. 

Will let out a small grunt in acknowledgment and nodded infinitesimally. He continued his tirade. 

"You are not to take any souvenirs from him. Not a single one. You are going to leave him with all the pieces he currently has." Will glared a hole through Hannibal's head, unsurprised when he looked up in protest to interject with, 

"Will -"

A resounding " _No_ ," cut through Hannibal's argument. This quieted the other man, but he still looked ready to fight him on it despite Will's threat from just a moment ago. 

"Only good boys get treats. You know this. Have you been a good boy?" Will asked pointedly, raising a single eyebrow.

Hannibal clenched his jaw at the condescension and paused, jaw working before he spoke through gritted teeth. "No, sir." 

"No, you have not. This was very very naughty Hannibal. Sadly, I can't say I'm surprised, as I normally have to wrangle a rather naughty boy, but I am disappointed you couldn't listen to me." Will learned fast that the words made Hannibal itch and opted to use them whenever he was being particularly childish. Hannibal remained silent, for which Will was glad. 

"So again, you will not take a single trophy from him. After you're done cleaning up your mess, I don't care how long that takes, you'll come right back here so I can deal with you. Now, go." With that Will stormed through the living room, refusing to acknowledge Hannibal with so much as a glance, and headed to their shared bedroom. 

He lay back on their bed, sitting up and lounging against the headboard contemplating Hannibal's behavior. He listened to the quiet fuss of Hannibal cleaning and closed his eyes with a deep sigh. Will knew it would take him a good long while before he was done, so he had ample time to come up with a suitable punishment, as well as get some well-deserved rest before he returned.

Hannibal wasn't usually so disrespectful of Will. Since the start of their arrangement, he had thrived under Will's praise, although he tried to hide how pleased he felt. It was very clear that Hannibal would bend space and time to his will if only to bring a satisfied smile to Will's face. 

He was eager to please, albeit willful and stubborn, but his shining and defining characteristic was his appetite for submitting. Pleasure thrummed through Will's veins at the knowledge that he was certainly the one and only person Hannibal would ever submit to. Only Will could bring him to his knees and survive to tell the tale. 

Yes, Hannibal would act out, most often when he felt Will wasn't paying enough attention to him, or when he felt in a particularly masochistic mood. Because mischief and disobedience never failed to be met with a sturdy hand and heavy consequences. 

The headstrong man knew that anything he chose to do in defiance of Will would in turn receive its rightful repercussions. He challenged Will's resolve, more so in the beginning of their dynamic than recently; he had found out the hard way that Will was not to be tested nor underestimated. 

His blood sung with glee at the sadistic being he had cultivated, one so willing to take him in hand and give him the sense of stability he had unknowingly been craving for years. Will was happy to oblige. Although you would never guess upon first meeting him, Will did **_so_ **enjoy the torture of Hannibal Lecter. 

Just as he knew Hannibal would not submit to another, he was equally sure he would not derive as much pleasure in dominating anyone besides the doctor. The quiet sense of power he possessed after killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs was a constant companion these days, solely because he was able to unleash himself on his willing participant. It was even more fun when he wasn't all that _willing_ either. 

Will had learned shortly after they started that Hannibal was extremely adept at withstanding physical pain. His energy and aura only seemed to strengthen with each lash, each flare of searing pain. It seemed as if he absorbed the blows, made them his own, and converted them into strength to drive him. 

This did not mean that it was entirely ineffective, there were certainly aspects of the pain that Will found were able to humble Hannibal. One such aspect was the humiliation. Dr. Lecter was a very proud man, after all. He held his dignity close to his chest, sewing it in alongside his living, working organs. 

His dignity became an entity in and of itself, a shapely form of tissue, filling the empty space in Hannibal's body. Only incredibly intricate acts of surgery could pull the organ from the rest of the flesh. Will would hold it in his hands, hold the pulsing life, and squeeze. Squeeze _**tight**_.

It was never returned to his body the same. With time, his pride and sense of self would gather back up again, cells duplicating to regrow the mass of flesh. When it had grown over the scars of Will's continued manipulations and hard knots of tissue expanded into something recognizable; that was the most glorious reprieve of all, to be able to squeeze it into nothingness again. 

And the poor boy needed very frequent reminders of his place. Every time Will had successfully crushed his pride with his bare hands, it seemed to remain deformed in subtle ways, even after having time to recuperate. Over time, it would seem to stay that way, ugly, torn up, knotty bits of tissue that used to be smooth, were now mangled, shriveled in places. Like a smoker's lungs; gradually worsening with each slow drag of tobacco. 

Will let out a breath of mirthless laughter. If he was the cigarette in this situation, Hannibal definitely had an addiction to the nicotine. But what was a cigarette without anyone to light it, place their lips on it and suck deep heady breaths of poisoned oxygen through it? Will and his darker nature alone were nothing without a counterpart to release it upon. 

The closing of drawers and doors and shuffle of clothing had subsided so Will knew Hannibal had taken the body elsewhere to dispose of it. He had plenty of time to devise a plan, and boy were the insidious wheels of his mind turning. 

+++++++++++++++++++++

Hannibal was no stranger to the physicality of heaving around dead bodies. He had trained to be fit enough to be able to handle any situation that arose within his preferred "hobbies" and hard labor was usually a welcomed companion of his efforts. 

The professor he had been transporting was easily on the smaller side of people he had killed, and for that he was grateful. For all the strength and resistance training he did in the gym, he was no young man. His muscles still strained with the effort and groaned the following day. Granted, the removal of choice organs always aided in lightening the load, but that was not a luxury he could partake in at the moment. 

Will had said no, and despite his abject repulsion of wasting a kill, he was not about to defy him any further. Will's cold-hearted sneer and disgusted stares bubbled hot within his stomach. It was a low pleasure, hot, twisted, his insides writhing with the shame. 

The degradation of their time together usually presented itself as a pleasant sort of nausea. One you might feel after eating a little too much of a well-baked dessert, or the sick, sticky anticipation of playing Russian roulette. Adrenaline flying through your system, cradling the nausea deep within your belly and evolving it into an exhilarating buzz. 

He had a few acquaintances in Florence that were coerced into owing him some favors, so he had no issue moving and burning the body. The part of his night that stretched on for far too long was trying to find a convincing reason he had up and left. 

The man was a bachelor, his parents long dead, which made Hannibal's life considerably easier. Will had said not to say he ran off with a woman, and even he could admit that it may have been a little overused. He could say, however, that he had been offered an incredible job opportunity, matching email to prove its validity, and he was leaving for Spain to live there permanently. 

He had Sogliato’s phone and quickly devised who on the list of contacts was most highly regarded, mimicking the man's dialogue tone in telling them over text message that he was going to catch the earliest flight to Spain. These friends of his didn't seem at all invested in his well-being if Hannibal's deducing was correct, and he couldn't say he was really surprised. 

Sogliato was detestable and completely intolerable even at the best of their interactions. Nonetheless, Will had said he had to be utterly convincing, so he handled it with precision and attentive care, although disliking that he had to put more than a few hours effort into this particular hog. He bought a plane ticket in the man's name with his credit cards, rented a small apartment near the "university he would be teaching at" and forged a passport and other identification for an old friend of his to board the plane with. 

His friend owed him a great deal and would have no problem leaving for Spain to play the part of a deplorable Italian man, at least for a little while. There were a few details Hannibal had to wrap up, and he had to be sure to keep in contact with the horrible little man's acquaintances, but besides the minor details, he was done. Hannibal was aware Will wanted it entirely taken care of, but if he kept him waiting any longer he would begin to assume he was stalling, so he left it to his better judgment and left for home. 

By the time he was arriving back to their apartment, it was well past nine in the morning, and all things considering, that had been a reasonably quick clean up. He walked in, pulling his loosened tie off completely, shucking off his shoes, and went to the kitchen for a brief sip of water. His body was relatively exhausted but he had suffered through worse, it was merely a matter of subjectivity. 

After the refreshing coolness of water had soothed his throat, he slowly ventured to where he knew Will would be waiting for him. There was no doubt Will had tried to force himself into getting even a little bit of sleep and had probably been successful judging by the faint smell of nighttime sweat coming from their bedroom. 

Will's night terrors had finally abated, and it seemed the solution was accepting himself for all that he is. The moment he began to lean into those cravings, those subconscious whispers of desire, his nightmares had ceased. He had been getting much better sleep because of it, which made him that much more alert, aware, and _dangerous_. Hannibal loved it. 

He pushed the door to the bedroom open and slid inside, locking eyes with a very alert and cognizant Will. His eyes scanned his face, searching for the deep-rooted anger he had felt from him only hours before. There was still the fire of fury, but it was stony and controlled under Will's disciplinary intentions. 

Hannibal slowly bowed his head and knelt to the ground, effortlessly assuming the proper position. He took a chance, and asked softly, "May I shower, sir?"

Will hummed, tilting his head as if weighing the options. He paused, letting the silence wash over them, deliberately making him wait for his answer. 

"You have three minutes," he said with disdain, looking Hannibal up and down as if to imply that his allowance wasn't for Hannibal's sake, but his own. Even lying against their bed, legs laid out and folded over each other, buttons on his shirt undone but stopping halfway, hands placed delicately on his thighs, he was the picture of command. 

Hannibal felt a slow shiver crawl through his neck and down his spine and fought to suppress it. 

"Thank you, sir." Rising from the floor elegantly, he stripped as he walked into their shared master bathroom, immediately turning on the showerhead. 

Wrapped in a towel, thoroughly scrubbed down and smelling fresh, he walked back into their room with 23 seconds to spare. Presuming Will would not require clothing of him for the next few moments, hours, however long he decided really, he removed the towel from around his waist and turned to hang it on a hook on the bathroom door. 

He sauntered forward, a small pep in his step now that he was clean, and moved to stand in front of Will by the edge of the bed. Head held high but eyes lowered, he waited for instruction. 

Part of the fun for Will had always been making him wait, exercise his patience. Patience came naturally to Hannibal, he had no trouble biding his time for the right moment in nearly every circumstance. On rare occasions, it would get to him. Right now happened to be one of those moments. He shifted his weight between his feet imperceptibly and yet he was sure Will noticed. A subtle twitch of the corner of his mouth told Hannibal of his amusement. Simply because it was fun, Will chose to stay silent for an agonizingly long time.

His eyes still reverently lowered, he could sense Will's stare on him, scrutinizing every aspect of his naked form and dripping, unstyled hair. With the chance to get lost in his thoughts, Hannibal's mind wandered to the rooms of his mind palace dedicated to these sessions. There was something so exquisite about being able to feel the true dichotomy of human existence; feeling both powerless and full of command at the same time. 

It may have been why he was drawn to this sort of service in the first place. In the beginning, the power that came from allowing another man to control him was entirely unique in its aroma and flavor. Will continually surprised Hannibal with how far he was willing to go, and before long he was craving the relinquishment of autonomy into the capable hands of one sadistic fisherman. 

Hannibal had been well aware of his dangerous affections towards the man for longer than he cared to admit and while it was highly unusual to feel such compassion for another human being, it felt like nothing but divine design in his presence. He had not felt the stirrings of deeply connected love since his sister had died and while this was different in form, it was also much stronger.

The feelings he had for Will were almost a manifestation of the pride he felt in himself. He regarded them as one in his mind, so they inevitably intertwined so intricately that he was no longer sure where one started and the other stopped. This magnificence of being drenched the room any time Will asserted himself in front of Hannibal, which happened to be often. 

Will took in a sharp inhale of breath, bringing Hannibal back to the present. He clapped his hands together and sat up straighter to finally address Hannibal with an instruction. 

"Alright then. Grab the cane," his voice tinged with a lilt of gleeful mirth. Will used to try to hide his delight at causing Hannibal physical and psychological pain but quickly dropped the act once he realized that allowing it to wash through him only made the experience lovelier. Being able to taste his own sadism was utterly sinful and savory like nothing else, and yet - SO DELICIOUS.

This time, Hannibal couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through his body. He went to their chest of implements across the room and grabbed their long thin rattan cane. There was something so mildly demeaning about handing your punisher the offending item, heat bloomed up through his feet as he gave it to Will. 

Will smiled then, rising from the bed and gesturing with his hand toward the edge. "Bend over, palms flat."

It still seemed so surreal to Will when presented with an obedient Hannibal Lecter, like this state was only achievable in his dreams. And yet, here they were, Will privy to Hannibal's round ass stretched as he bent himself over their bed. 

Will wasted no time in warming up Hannibal's ass with quick light flicks of the cane, one after the other, just enough to color the skin a nice pink. When he felt that had been sufficient enough, he lifted the cane high, told Hannibal to count them, and brought it down hard, the sound cutting through the air before landing with a resounding thud. 

Will was self-taught in the way of caning but knew where to hit Hannibal so as not to do any permanent damage, and how to make it really stick with him. The flicks of the wrist were for warming up, but the real show was the hard swing of his arm, spacing out each strike to allow the deep tissue pain rise to the surface. 

Skilled in this art form, he took his sweet time raining blows to the fleshiest curve of the reddened ass. Aware he was neglecting the sit spots, he was sure to continue the strikes down to the junction between leg and cheek. Those were Hannibal's most sensitive areas and always garnered a few strained grunts from him. In between blows, Will would trail the tip of the cane up and down Hannibal's spine, eliciting involuntary goosebumps from the man, inwardly preening at the reaction. 

The submissive was able to withstand great amounts of pain without showing any outward signs of his struggle, but when it came to Will and the things he did to him, his control seemed to slip through his fingers. Letting out muffled whimpers of pain, voice catching as he managed to relay the strike count out loud. 

Twenty-five welts in and Hannibal's chest was heaving rapidly, sweat dripping down his neck and forehead, barely able to count without yelling in pain. In any other circumstance, Hannibal would be successfully holding in his verbal acknowledgments of pain, but he knew his sounds pleased Will, so he let his hard resolve crumble around him, adding to the beauty and wonder of giving in. 

Will finally felt that he had dealt him enough of a physical reminder to obey, and placed a hand on Hannibal's sweaty back indicating he should stay where he was. He cleaned the cane of blood that had been drawn and grabbed a wet washcloth from the bathroom to bring to Hannibal. 

After putting the cane away, he came to stand next to Hannibal, using the washcloth to gently wipe away the blood on his ass, then using the clean side to wipe Hannibal's face down with the cool rag, shushing him softly as he let out soft wavery whimpers.

"You did very well," he sat on the bed next to the folded man and brushed his hair back from his sticky forehead. Continually running his hands through the soft locks, he scratched Hannibal's scalp lightly, making what could only be described as a low purr emerge from his throat. 

Hannibal would deny it immediately, not completely aware of himself in the deep headspace he was in, but he was truly very cat-like and sweet after the physical aspects of his punishments. 

"You're a good boy. Good boy," Will murmured near Hannibal's ear, still stroking through his hair, and smoothing his other hand over his cheekbones, caressing his jaw gently. "Okay, up now Hannibal."

Hannibal let out another involuntary and quiet whine in protest and Will cracked a smile. He gently helped him up off the bed so he was standing now, eyes glazed but still aware, expression sweet and relaxed, one of Will's favorite faces of his. 

"Alright. Good boy, Hannibal. Keep being good for me. Kneel on the floor at the end of the bed facing the bathroom."

Hannibal moved languidly, movements slow as he willed his body to obey faster. Each step triggered a jolt of pain up and through his backside, the pressure of walking making it ache and throb. He reached his destination and knelt, waiting for Will to give him more instruction.

Will came into his line of vision, pulling an armchair from the corner of the room over to a spot across Hannibal and against the wall. He sat on the comfortable velvet chair and leaned back, legs crossed. 

He pulled a shiny object out from behind him, holding it out for Hannibal to see. Hannibal, of course, recognized it immediately and his eyebrows pinched together in a slight frown. Will only smiled in response, eyes soft, all previous anger either eradicated or buried deep; Hannibal wasn't sure which. 

"Put this on, please." The degrading nature of the action pulled Hannibal further forward into awareness and he didn't move, challenging Will with his eyes. All it took was a tick of an eyebrow and Hannibal was reaching for the stainless steel cock cage. Will smoothed his hair as a reward, to which Hannibal let out a quiet grumble.

Heat traveled up from his chest to his neck, warming his cheeks a light rouge as he maneuvered and positioned his flaccid dick into the cold, unrelenting metal. He secured the back ring around the base of his shaft and his balls, and his mouth twitched in a cringe as he locked it and handed the key back over to Will, refusing to give in and avoid eye contact. 

Eyes still locked, Will cooed, "Very good boy. Excellent."

"Now I'm going to get myself off, and you're going to watch. And although you've been taking your punishment well, this is still a part of it, so you do not get to touch me. Only well-behaved boys get to touch, and you've been a very naughty boy today. Haven't you?" Will had pulled his rock hard length out of his pants and began stroking as he spoke.

Will watched Hannibal's adam's apple bob as he swallowed and cleared his throat before he spoke. "Yes, sir."   
  
Halting in his movements, Will held out the hand he had been using up to Hannibal's mouth. 

"Spit." Hannibal complied, lovely shame swirling around his belly, low and deep. His humiliation and arousal often went hand in hand, and he felt his cock strain against the cage from watching Will touch himself. His entire body ached to reach out and touch him, anywhere. Hands shaking, he curled them into fists at his sides to prevent himself from attempting it. 

With his hand newly lubricated with Hannibal's saliva, he sped up his movements, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, letting out a loud moan. He rolled his head to the side and brought it back up to stare Hannibal down in the eyes as he let out soft pants of pleasure. 

He watched as Hannibal licked his lips, cock straining red and angry against the cage now, smirking as he began to cant his hips in time with his strokes, thrusting lightly into his palm. Will swirled his thumb over the head and through the precum that had gathered there, gathering some of it on his thumb of his left hand, leaning forward to place his thumb in front of Hannibal's mouth.

Before his tongue could swipe out at his finger to taste him, Will smeared his thumb over Hannibal's nipple, laughing breathlessly at the man's dejected whine at being denied what he wanted. 

Will's moans turned throatier and deeper and his thrusts became more erratic as he neared the edge of his climax. He went even faster, speeding up until he knew he was going to spill over, twisting his palm over the head of his cock at the last minute. Stripes of cum left him and gathered in his waiting hand as he gasped and panted his way through his orgasm. 

Will looked to Hannibal to see a single tear had formed in the corner of his eye, threatening to spill, dark eyes pleading with him; for what he wasn't sure. He smiled devilishly and laid back against the chair, body spent, and needing to rest a moment. 

"Tell me what you want. Maybe if you ask nicely you'll get it."

Hannibal shifted impatiently on his knees, and let out a very quiet, "Please." He hoped the nicety would be enough to get him what he wanted, the essence of Will, starting to cool in his hand. He craved the taste of Will, it thrummed through every fiber of every cell, screaming with need.

Will raised his eyebrows in mock disappointment, shaking his head a little with a sigh. He stood, gesturing for Hannibal to do the same. Once Hannibal was on his feet, Will helped turn him around, red ass in perfect view. The welts seemed to be purpling nicely and Will lightly gripped his hip with one hand, moving him around to admire his work. 

He took the hand still cupping his cum, and spread it all over Hannibal's bright red and purple ass cheeks. He was expecting it to sting, and sure enough, heard a slight hiss of pain coming from Hannibal in response. 

Will went to the nightstand where he had laid the wet washcloth and wiped himself clean with it. He pulled down his pants and unbuttoned his shirt, changing into a t-shirt and boxers and slipping into the bed, watching Hannibal with curious eyes. 

"Time to rest now, Hannibal." He patted the bed, inviting the man to join him there.

"I can't lie down with, I have -"

"Sure, you can. Come on," again patting the bed impatiently for Hannibal to slip under the covers with him.

"The sheets -" his incredulous and offended protest was cut off once again.

"You'll wash them. **Now,** Hannibal." Will's face turned stern again, too tired to deal with any more of his arguing. Luckily Hannibal relented and slipped under the covers. Still unsure if he was given permission to touch Will, he kept to himself and didn't turn into the warm body to cuddle, despite wanting to rather desperately. 

He curled into himself and faced away from Will, speaking softly but distinctly, "I am sorry, Will."

He sighed softly in relief as he felt the warmth of Will's back curl up behind him, wrapping an arm around Hannibal's waist as the big spoon, curling his legs into the crook of Hannibal's bent knees. Will stroked through Hannibal's chest hair, rubbing up and down his abdomen soothingly. 

"I know." Whispered into his ear, they were the last words spoken before both men fell into a deep and restful sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading my trash !!!!! if you got to the end, i applaud you for your bravery in sitting through the madness of my incoherent thoughts. i’d love comments of critique or commentary, anything at all. love yous !! :)


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